Tamper Evident
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: Jeanne finally gets what she always wanted. Someone comes looking for her. Perhaps she should have made her neediness more specific.


Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. Or the FBI – although I'd consider purchasing it if the banks foreclosed and I could get a good interest rate.

Spoilers: Up through _Internal Affairs, _with a vague one for the S3 ep _Frame Up_.

Summary: Lying to the FBI is all champagne wishes and caviar dreams – until they decide they want something to show for those wasted man-hours and taxpayer dollars.

* * *

Jeanne Benoit tapped her foot impatiently and leveled a malevolent stare at the woman standing at the check-in counter. The plane was clearly parked outside the gate, and she held a first-class ticket – yet the high-and-mighty woman in the stupid blue uniform insisted that boarding couldn't begin for another hour. She didn't even have the decency to accept a bribe.

A burst of laughter suddenly erupted from the only occupied table at the pseudo-Mexican restaurant across the concourse. Jeanne stood and yanked up the handle of her carry-on, having decided that if the evil eye wasn't going to get her anywhere, she could kill time with alcohol instead. The wooden seats along the empty bar turned out to be only marginally less comfortable that the padded ones in the waiting area.

The bartender soon returned from gathering glasses at the table of travelers in the corner. "Sorry to keep you waiting, ma'am. Can I get you a menu? I'd recommend the enchiladas with…"

"I don't want any food. Just make me a dry vodka martini." The drink sounded distasteful the moment she said it; she'd only ever started drinking the stupid things because it was what Tony liked. Why couldn't he have liked…margaritas? "Wait. I think I'd actually prefer a margarita. A strawberry margarita."

The bartender smiled. "That just happens to be one of my specialties. Frozen?"

"Definitely."

The bartender lingered when he delivered the drink a few moments later, trying to start a conversation. "So, where's a pretty girl like you headed all by herself?"

"Away." She squeezed her eyes closed as she took an aggressive sip through the straw, the cold slush causing an instant reaction.

"Escaping, then. Some jerk break your heart?"

She waited a moment for the cold-headache to dissipate before looking at him carefully. How could a strange bartender know what had happened to her? There was no reason for her to be under surveillance now that… She closed her eyes, but the images of her father and Tony only became more defined. The bartender looked at her expectantly and she wished he would just go away. The restaurant was dead, but there had to be an easy way to get him out of her hair. "How long have you had that mole on your cheek?"

"Huh?" He turned and looked at himself in the mirror mounted over the shelves of liquor. "Oh, that? I don't know. Guess I've always had it. How come?"

"Nothing. It's just that melanoma is one of the more dangerous cancers." She allowed him a moment to get worried before tapping the straw on the rim of her half-empty glass. "I'd like another of these."

"Yeah. Right."

She was on her third frozen strawberry margarita when a balding man in a suit sat down beside her, increasing her level of annoyance; a visit across the way had given her the intelligence that thirty minutes remained before she would be allowed to board her flight. She kept her eyes on the falling level of pinkish slurry in her glass, studiously avoiding eye contact with the man. There were plenty of other empty seats in the bar, so this could only mean she was going to have to fend off some dirty old man's advances until the harpy at the desk welcomed passengers onboard. If only she hadn't alienated the bartender…

The man suddenly said, "You left without saying goodbye, Miss Benoit."

Jeanne glanced to the side with some alarm, getting a slight head-rush as she did so. Had some pickpocket stolen her wallet then had the gall to sit beside her to tease her about it? She blinked and recognized the FBI agent she'd been dealing with for the past week, whose name she hadn't bothered to remember. "_Doctor_ Benoit," she finally corrected. She hated being called 'Miss,' and airports were the worst for that – ticket agents, customs agents, TSA agents who made her go barefoot _and_ called her 'Miss.' She sucked the rest of her drink through her straw before looking at the FBI agent – why did everyone have to be an agent? – again. "I'm a doctor. A good doctor. I save lives."

"My apologies." He remained silent until the bartender arrived to take his order. "Maker's Mark. Neat. And another round for the lady." He didn't speak again until the drinks had arrived. "Does your flight leave soon?"

She turned her head to watch the woman at the desk giggling and chatting with another airline worker instead of announcing that they would now begin boarding first-class passengers only. Wait. Yes. "Yes."

"Going somewhere pleasant?" She didn't answer, but her continued staring at the gate across the concourse had to be what tipped him off. "Paris? So you love Paris in the springtime?"

"It's a stopover." She began sipping her fresh drink. "I'm going back to Gabon to help people. I'm a doctor."

"It's a very worthy cause. In fact, I almost feel bad about doing this."

"Bothering me at the airport?"

"Miss…I'm sorry, Dr. Benoit, I trust that you're aware of what occurred yesterday?"

"I made a mistake." She could see Tony's face as the elevator doors closed on the truth. "The last mistake I plan on making." She hurriedly brushed her hand over her eyes, not wanting this stranger to see her cry over nothing. That was what Tony had said. If it was all fake, it was nothing. Nothing. "I think I should see if my flight is boarding." She stood and took a few shaky steps before the handle on her carry-on failed to support her. She left it lying on the floor and continued walking, if in a somewhat meandering manner.

"Dr. Benoit?" The agent was at her side before she got very far. "I'm afraid we aren't quite finished."

"Oh, yes, we are."

He held her elbow, "Dr. Benoit, I'm asking you to come quietly, but there are other options."

She stared uncomprehendingly at the handcuffs he dangled in front of her. "You're arresting me because Tony is a lying jerk?"

"Not at all. I'm arresting you for obstruction of justice and lying to a federal investigator. We shut down another agency and accused one of their agents of murder based on your testimony."

"So?" She jerked her arm out of his grip and took a stumbling step backward. "Maybe you should have gathered more…more…evidence!" Two men in suits were quickly approaching from either side. She shrieked, "No! This is not my fault! Someone murdered my father! Why are you wasting time with me?"

"You didn't think it was a waste of our time when you told us you saw your boyfriend shoot your father."

She sank to her knees, burying her face in her hands to block out the curious faces of the crowd gathering around her. "Even if he didn't pull the trigger, it's his fault. I hate him."

"There are better ways to grind an axe, Dr. Benoit. Next time try one that doesn't break the law." The agent gently pulled her off the ground and handcuffed her. He carried her suitcase and purse himself as one of the other men in suits led her through the terminal. "If it makes you feel any better, you're not the first person who tried to frame DiNot-zo for murder unsuccessfully."


End file.
